


They Say

by kaiz



Category: Witchblade (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-22
Updated: 2002-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiz/pseuds/kaiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of <i>Malestrom,</i> Sarah reflects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Say

They say that you never know what you've got 'til it's gone.

Except that did I know; and 'they' are full of shit.

I've showered. Twice. I've cleaned my loft, swept away the broken glass, righted the overturned furniture. The locks have been repaired and windows replaced. I've cleaned my gun, changed the sheets, and burned my clothes.

But even still, I can see him. The gilt of his hair against my pillow in the candle light, the flash of his smile. I can smell him on my skin,feel the gentle touch of his hands, callused muscian's hands. Hands that quickly learned the shape of my body, that coaxed music and laughter from this pathetic, inadequate shell.

In this bed I learned to sing, though my father once claimed that my voice could call crows. We met, he and I, flame to flame, and he was fearless. I pinned him, held him against the sheets. Other men might have flinched,  
thrown me aside, rolled me to my back and pressed down hard. But he just smiled, then pulled me down, opened his mouth to my kiss, and surrendered.

Oh god.

You fucking bastard. I hate you. I hate--

He brought me *joy* again, when I'd forgotten; made me remember its shape and texture. Made me believe I could be happy. That I could be real, that I could feel again.

Then you stole it away.

And last night I spent the night in his blood, arms around a cooling, stiffening corpse. Dead by *your* cruel, alien blade. No music and no joy. Not ever again.

My skin is still damp from the shower and the sheets are cool against my back. My hand is between my legs and my fingers shape the long familiar rhythms that would have once coaxed my body to tighten, my back to arch; I would have bitten my lip.

Once.

But in the flicker of the candles all I can see is your baleful red eye upon my wrist.

They say that a wolf will gnaw off its limb to escape a trap.

And I think that perhaps 'they' aren't full of shit after all.

_Finis._

**Author's Note:**

> Fic challenge: There Was One in the Bed....Sometimes sex is a solitary occupation. And keeping it exciting can be tough. How sexy can you make a self-stimulation? Pick your favorite fandom. Fifteen minutes.


End file.
